


(Not So) Alone

by combefemme



Series: Something Like Family [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:53:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combefemme/pseuds/combefemme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek gets custody of Isaac, with some help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Not So) Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This starts before Begin Again and overlaps with it a bit.

Derek is feeling discouraged and hopeless when he climbs through Stiles' bedroom window. He doesn't need to, he knows. He just saw the sheriff at the station. Old habits just die hard, he supposes.

“Found anything?” he asks, gruff, cutting right to the chase.

Stiles spins around in his computer chair, pen hanging out of his mouth, to face Derek where he leans on the window sill.

“What's wrong with you?” he asks, pen bobbing precariously.

Derek runs a hand over his face. “Just had another interview with the CPS people,” he sighs. “I don't know why I'm bothering with all this.”

“'Cause Isaac needs you,” Stiles replies easily, though he doesn't sound happy about it. Stiles doesn't like Isaac very much, Derek knows.

Derek shakes his head. “He'd probably be better off.”

“The newly-made, unstable werewolf with authority issues,” Stiles says dryly, finally pulling that pen from between his lips and tossing it on the desk behind him. “Yeah, you're probably right.”

Derek sighs, annoyed this time. “Have you found anything?” he asks again.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Right, that,” he says, spinning back around. “No.”

Derek groans. “No?”

“No,” Stiles repeats. “But I have not yet exhausted all my possible leads.”

“What d'you mean?” Derek asks, coming to stand behind Stiles and peer at his laptop over his shoulder.

“Well, you said when you were trying to track Erica and Boyd in the woods that the trail just disappeared, right?” he explains. “The scent completely vanishes – which should be impossible – right?”

“Yeah,” Derek drags the word out, telling Stiles to go on with his tone.

“Right. Well, who's our expert on all things impossible?” Stiles asks, turning his head to look up at Derek. When Derek just raises his eyebrows in question Stiles huffs. “Deaton.”

“Oh,” Derek nods.

Stiles rolls his eyes and turns back to his computer. “He gave me a few other things to look into.”

Derek nods again even though Stiles isn't looking and moves back to sit on the end of his bed. “How's the Deaton stuff going?”

“I only talked to him about it today, dude, and I've got an essay due tomorrow,” Stiles tells him. “Sorry, but I haven't had a chance to look into it yet.”

“No,” Derek replies. “I mean the other stuff. With Deaton.”

“Oh!” Stiles spins back around to face him again and there's excitement in his eyes now. “Pretty good actually.”

“Good,” Derek says and looks around the room, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Wanna see?” Stiles asks.

Derek turns back to him. “Sure.”

Stiles grins and spins back around to his desk, pulling a worn out old tome towards him. Derek watches him as his eyes scan the page, his lips moving minutely as he reads. Finally, he nods to himself and his face sets in a look of determination.

He turns back to Derek and raises his left hand up in front of his face pressing him thumb and middle finger together. Derek watches him closely as he licks his lips and closes his eyes. His forehead creases, like he's concentrating hard, and then he snaps his fingers.

A small flame erupts, hovering slightly above Stiles' fingers. It's not much – nothing more than what Derek would get if he flicked open the Bic in his pocket – but for a moment he's mesmerized. His eyes don't break away until he sees a smile stretch across Stiles' face behind the flame, proud and unabashed.

Derek meets his eyes and Stiles gives a small laugh. “Cool, huh?”

Derek swallows. “Yeah,” he says. “That's good.”

Something churns uncomfortably in Derek's stomach, though, and he stands.

“I should get going,” he says, not meeting Stiles' eyes now.

Stiles waves his hand and the flame goes out. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees, but his voice is uncertain.

“I'll, uh, I'll talk to you later,” Derek says, turning towards the window. “Let me know if you find anything else.”

He's outside and on the ground before Stiles has a chance to respond.

XxXx

The Beacon County Sheriff's Office doesn't really have a waiting room, just a corner with a few stiff metal chairs shoved into it. It's in full view of the reception desk where a deputy is clicking away on the computer, doing something that Derek can't see.

Isaac's in the back someplace, stuffed away in an interrogation room with his CPS caseworker. Derek can't hear them no matter how hard he strains his ears, but he figures that's the point of interrogation rooms.

The front doors open then and Derek hears a familiar voice say, “Hey, Sid.”

Derek looks up the same time as the deputy to see Stiles making his way towards the front desk.

“Hey, kiddo,” the deputy says. “Here to see your dad?”

“Yeah,” Stiles answers and holds up the paper bag in his hand. “Dinner. Gotta make sure he doesn't give himself a heart attack.”

Sid smiles and nods. “He's in a meeting right now.”

“That's cool,” Stiles replies. “I can wait.”

He turns towards the waiting area then and spots Derek. He smiles.

“Hey,” he says, coming over and taking the seat next to him. “What're you doing here?”

“Isaac's in the back,” Derek answers and it's not until Stiles nods that he realizes that that's not much of an answer and that is should be surprising that Stiles knew what he meant.

“Custody stuff?” Stiles clarifies.

“Yeah,” Derek nods.

“How's that going?” he asks and when Derek just shakes his head and shrugs Stiles gives him a sympathetic smile. “That good, huh?”

Derek huffs a sigh and tries to tell himself again that Isaac would probably be better off without him. The state would place him with a family that could take care of him better. Isaac deserves a real family.

He ends up running his hands over his face in frustration because, goddammit, he doesn't want to lose Isaac.

Derek looks back up to see Stiles staring at him with a look that Derek chooses to believe is full of sympathy and not pity. Stiles opens his mouth like he's about to say something but just then the door to the back opens and Isaac is coming towards them.

“How'd it go?” Derek asks even though the sag in Isaac's shoulders is answer enough.

“He asked how I'm doing in school,” Isaac says hopelessly. Derek has to physically fight off a cringe. He was afraid Isaac's bad grades would work against them.

“We can figure something out for that,” Derek tries to assure him. It's not the first time he's considered hiring Isaac a tutor.

“I asked him where I'd end up if this didn't work out,” Isaac mumbles, almost like he's ashamed. Derek doesn't want to admit that it breaks his heart a bit to know that Isaac is already giving up on him. “Asked if I'd still be in Beacon Hills. Or even the county.”

“And?” Derek asks.

Isaac sighs. “He said I'd probably end up in Sacramento or San Francisco.”

“Well, that's not too far,” Stiles suddenly pipes up.

Derek and Isaac both turn to him and Isaac gives a humourless laugh. “It's far enough.”

Derek huffs and stands up, deciding to end what is sure to be an argument in the sheriff's office before it starts. 

“We should get going,” he says to Isaac. The boy nods and turns toward the door.

When it had been decided that Isaac could still live with Derek during all these custodial proceedings, he'd counted it as a win. He'd though it meant that they trusted Derek to take care of him. Now, though, he just thinks it was the county's way of apologizing for accusing them both of murders they didn't commit.

“I'll see you around,” Stiles says from behind Derek.

He stops and turns back. “Yeah. See you.”

XxXx

The next time Derek sees Stiles is in the woods.

He hears him before he sees him; smells him before he hears him. When Derek enters the small clearing it's to find Stiles crouching down, that same leather-bound old book from the other night lying in the grass in front of him, leafing through the pages. 

He doesn't notice Derek until he's looming over him, his shadow falling over the book, at which point Stiles startles and ends up on his ass. 

“What the hell, dude?” he gripes when he looks up at Derek.

“What are you doing out here?” Derek asks.

Stiles pushes himself to his feet and attempts to brush the dirt off his pants. “Practising.”

“Practising?” Derek repeats.

“Yes,” Stiles gestures down at the book at his feet. “Practising.”

“Why out here?” Derek questions.

Stiles gives an annoyed sigh but Derek doesn't think it's directed at him. “Deaton's suggestion,” is all he offers by way of explanation. “Wanna see what I'm working on?”

Derek thinks back to the other night in Stiles' bedroom with that little flame and he briefly considers saying no, but the look on Stiles' face is so hopeful that Derek just can't do it. “Sure.”

Stiles grins before stepping backwards and taking a deep breath. “Okay. I haven't actually tried this one yet, so here goes.”

This time he closes his eyes first and raises both hands, palms up before turning his face skyward. The late afternoon sun falls golden across his features and Derek can't seem to tear his eyes away when Stiles licks his lips and get that little crease in his brow again.

For a long moment nothing happens and Derek starts to wonder if it's not going to work but then all of a sudden the wind starts to pick up. Derek finally looks away from Stiles as the branches of the trees surrounding the clearing begin to sway and loose foliage starts to whip around them.

Suddenly Derek feel frantic because while it's just wind there's something about it that's not natural, something that has his instincts going haywire. But before he has a chance to work himself into too much of a panic or even really react, it all stops.

He turns back to Stiles but it's to find that he's dropped to his knees, panting hard. Derek kneels down in front of him, fear setting in because something must have gone wrong.

“What's wrong?” he asks, hands hovering, wanting to touch but not knowing where or how.

“Nothing,” Stiles answers and he's... laughing? “It's okay. I'm fine.”

“What happened?” Derek asks, calmer now but still on edge.

Stiles lifts his head and smiles. “Nothing. Really, dude. It's fine. It's just, something that big, it takes a lot out of you.” Derek drops his hands but doesn't back away and Stiles takes a few deep breaths before going on. “That's actually why I was out here.”

Derek's brows furrow. “What?”

“Well, all this stuff is nature-based, right?” he explains and doesn't give Derek a chance to respond before continuing. “So, technically, I should be able to tap into the natural energy that's already there to do it. But I'm not that good yet and I've still been relying on my own energy. I thought that maybe if I came out here and, I don't know, immersed myself in it that it might be easier but no such luck.”

Derek feels himself start to relax. “So, you're okay?” he asks, just to be sure.

A smile splits Stiles' face and he says, “You're actually worried about me.” Derek presses his lips together and looks away but he can still see that shit-eating grin out of the corner of his eye. “I'm fine, Derek,” he says and his voice is sincere. “What're you doing out here anyway?”

Derek thinks the subject change is an act of mercy. “Checking on the house,” he answers as he stands and holds a hand out to haul Stiles up.

“You check on the house?” Stiles asks once he's on his feet.

Derek shrugs. He knows that, logically, it doesn't make much sense. The house is old and half-burned. It looks like a strong gust of wind could blow it over. Derek hadn't even thought to check on it in the six years he was away, but now that he's back it feels like a responsibility. Especially since the Argents had set up shop there. They're gone now – all but Chris and Allison taking off after Gerard disappeared – but it still feels like a violation.

“Ever think of rebuilding it?” Stiles questions as he gathers his things.

“Rebuild it?” Derek says. “No.”

“Why not?” Stiles starts walking, leading the way out of the preserve and back to where Derek assumes he's parked.

Derek shrugs. “I don't really know.”

“You should,” Stiles yawns as he says it and Derek watches him from the corner of his eye. His eyelids are drooping. “It's basically a historical landmark, right? I mean, it's one of the oldest houses in town, isn't it?”

“In the county,” Derek corrects.

“Exactly,” Stiles says like that proves his point.

Derek shakes his head. “It's not the simple.”

“It's probably not as hard as you're making it, though,” Stiles replies.

Derek doesn't say anything to that and they walk in silence the rest of the way out of the forest. He notices Stiles yawning a few more times. When they break through the treeline into the parking lot, Derek reaches out and grabs Stiles' arm before he can make a move for the drivers' side door.

“Give me your keys,” Derek orders.

“What?” Stiles asks around another yawn.

“Give me your keys,” Derek repeats. “You're not driving like this. You'll fall asleep at the wheel.”

“I will not,” Stiles grouses, but he's digging in his pocket. 

“Just get in the car,” Derek says once Stiles hands him the keys. He's going for annoyed but he's afraid it comes out more fond than anything else.

“Man, when did you start caring?” Stiles mumbles as he opens the passenger door.

Derek doesn't answer, but he's wondering the same thing.

XxXx

“Well, Mr Hale,” the caseworker – Samson – says. “You've got quite the interesting history here.”

He's got a folder in his hands, flipping through what Derek assumes are files and pictures. He's angled it so Derek can't see. 

“You could say that,” Derek answers.

“You were sixteen when you lost your family.”

It's not a question but Derek answers anyway. “Yes.”

“And you and your sister – who were both still teenagers – just ran away.”

“Laura was eighteen,” Derek responds. “She had custody of me. We just needed a fresh start.”

It's not entirely true, but it's close enough.

Samson nods. “And then six years later you suddenly reappear in Beacon Hills.”

“Laura was missing,” Derek says through gritted teeth. “I was looking for her.”

“And you found her.”

“Yes.”

Derek thinks he knows what Samson is doing. Isaac's last home had been volatile – full of violence and anger. Samson is trying to see how far he has to push Derek to get a rise out of him. They don't want to put Isaac back with someone like his father.

“You've been accused of murder, Derek,” Samson says, closing the file and throwing it down on the table between them. “Twice.”

“And I was exonerated,” Derek replies. “Twice.”

“Still, though, it makes you wonder,” Samson goes on.

“Wonder what?” Derek questions.

“Well, in both instances you were accused by the same person.”

Derek sighs. “Yeah.”

“And both times, said person recanted and took his accusation back.”

“Because he was wrong,” Derek replies.

“Maybe,” Samson says. “Or maybe he was coerced.”

Derek feels like he's had the wind knocked out of him. “What?” he asks, and he knows his voice sounds murderous and he needs to calm down but this accusation is too far. “You think I... What? Threatened Stiles? Hurt Stiles?”

Samson just smirks back at him. “You tell me.”

Derek takes a deep, shuddering breath and fights to keep his calm. “I'd never.”

Samson just keeps on smirking.

XxXx

He heads for Stiles' house that night when he leaves the station. He's pretty sure he just messed everything up, screwed whatever chance they had, failed Isaac completely and he doesn't have it in him to face him yet.

When he climbs through the window, it's to find Stiles lying on his bedroom floor wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts doing sit-ups. Derek leans against the sill and quirks an eyebrow at him.

“You're working out?” He'd never pegged Stiles for the type.

Stiles falls back onto the carpet, arms splayed out at his sides. “I am making first line this year, dude,” he says. “Even if it kills me.”

Derek moves to sit on the edge of Stiles' bed and stare down at him. “You hang around with werewolves on a regular basis and you think it's lacrosse that's going to kill you?”

Stiles actually laughs. “Well, at least it'll be on my own terms, right?”

“That's one way of looking at it,” Derek replies.

Stiles grins and pushes himself to his feet. “It's actually a good thing you showed up.”

Derek's eyes only linger on the way Stiles shorts hang low on his hips for a second. “Why's that?”

“Because I think I have something,” he replies, taking a seat next to Derek on the bed. He's so close that their knees knock together and alarm bells start going off in Derek's head. Something in him screams to move away, put space between them, run. But another part of him is telling him to stop denying how much he wants this.

“What?” Derek asks.

“It's not much,” Stiles says. “Just a theory, really. One you're probably not going to like.”

“What is it?” Derek prompts.

Stiles sighs. “The scent stopped, right? It's not like something else covered it up or anything. It just disappeared.”

“Yeah,” Derek replies.

“There's only one thing that could do that, Derek,” Stiles says. “Magic.”

Derek stares at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means Erica and Boyd didn't do it,” Stiles answers. “Someone else covered their trail.”

“Someone took them?” Derek asks.

“I think so,” Stiles replies.

Derek sighs and drops his head into his hands. “The good news just keeps on coming.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Stiles asks.

Derek turns to look at him. “I think I lost Isaac tonight.”

Stiles' eyebrows shoot upwards. “Why?”

“That damn caseworker,” Derek tells him. “He was trying to get a rise out of me, I know he was. And I just... I let him.”

Stiles doesn't say anything and Derek keeps talking. “It's probably for the best, anyway. Isaac's better off without me.”

He leaves shortly afterwards, when he looks up into those wide brown eyes and wants nothing more than to stay.

XxXx

“Hello?” Derek answers his phone. It's shortly after eight at night and he's walking through the parking lot of the restaurant he works at towards his car, finally done for the day.

“Derek,” a gruff voice says. “It's John Stilinski.”

Derek stops short, surprised. “Sheriff. What can I do for you?”

“I need you to come down to the station,” he says.

“Is everything okay?” Derek asks, walking towards his car again, faster than before.

“Oh yeah,” the sheriff says. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Okay,” Derek replies. “I'm on my way.”

XxXx

Sid the Deputy is working the counter again when Derek gets to the station.

“Sheriff Stilinski just called me,” Derek tells him.

Sid nods. “Yep. Samson's waiting for you in room three.”

Derek feels his brown knot together. Samson? Derek doesn't have a meeting with Samson tonight.

“What's going on?” Derek asks when he enters the room to see Samson sitting at the table, a pile of papers in front of him.

“Congratulations, Mr Hale,” Samson says. “You've been granted custody of Isaac Lahey.”

“I have?” Derek asks.

“You've just got to sign here and it's all official,” Samson replies, sliding the papers across the table towards Derek.

He takes the papers and flips through them. It all seems genuine. It's really happening.

Derek gives a stunned laugh. “I didn't think...”

Samson sighs. “Neither did I. But an endorsement from the sheriff of Beacon County goes a long way.”

“What?” Derek asks, looking up.

Samson just shrugs and holds out a pen.

XxXx

On his way out of the station, Derek stops at the sheriff's office. He gets beckoned in when he knocks on the door.

“Congratulations,” the sheriff says, leaning back in his chair.

“Thanks,” Derek says and gets a small smile in return. “No, really. Thank you.”

“Ah, don't thank me,” he says. “Stiles all but begged me to put in a good word for you.”

“Stiles?” Derek asks.

The sheriff nods. “I don't know what it is that's going on with you and my son, but he seems to have taken quite a shine to you.”

Derek looks away, not knowing how to respond. Turns out he doesn't have to.

“You take care of that kid, Derek,” Sheriff Stilinski tells him.

Derek looks back and nods. “Yes, sir.”

XxXx

In all the times that Derek has been to Stiles' house, he's never knocked on the front door. So Stiles' look of shock when he opens it to find Derek standing on his front step isn't at all surprising.

“Derek,” he says. “Hey.”

“It worked,” Derek tells him.

“What?” Stiles asks.

“Isaac,” Derek answers. “They gave me custody.”

Stiles grins. “That's awesome.”

“Why'd you do it?” Derek asks.

“What?”

“Your dad said you asked him to help me,” Derek answers. “Why?”

“Because I thought you could use it,” Stiles answers.

“You don't even like Isaac,” Derek tells him.

“I didn't do it for Isaac,” Stiles replies, not meeting his eyes.

“Then why?”

Stiles huffs a sigh and looks back at him. “Because you don't deserve to be alone, Derek,” he says suddenly. “You don't have to be alone.”

Derek doesn't know what to say to that and he doesn't get a chance to say anything anyway because Stiles grabs him by the front of his jacket and pulls him into a kiss. For half a second Derek thinks about pushing him away, but he's already wrapping his arms around Stiles waist and kissing him back.

XxXx

Derek gets home shortly after midnight to find Isaac asleep on the couch, the only light in the room coming from the TV. He throws his jacket on the armchair before crossing the room to crouch down in front of him.

“Isaac,” he says, shaking his shoulder.

Isaac mumbles something sleep and incoherent in response.

Derek shakes him again. “Wake up.”

Isaac's eyes slowly slide open. “What?”

“I've got some good news,” Derek says and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Betcha didn't see Magic!Stiles coming, huh?
> 
> As always, my tumblr >> getyourhandofftheglass
> 
> Also, I hate the title of this one but I seriously cannot come up with anything else right now. Don't be surprised if it changes.


End file.
